For about a year, I waited tables at a Nashville country club. Tucked behind the dining room was a bar that was reserved for male members for most of the day. The atmosphere changed during those "boys only" bar hours. The men became, well, a little more "guylike."
By "guylike," I don't mean "manly," which, to me, describes what's awesome about the men we love: size and strength; physical courage; an urge to protect; possibly a beard.
"Guylike," by my definition, is a darker descriptor. It's what some commentators have called "frat-house mentality," in which groups of men behave more like their stereotypes than they might individually. Of course, it's not only men who do this. In his book Inside Greek U, University of Kentucky communication professor Alan DeSantis describes college fraternities and sororities as "gendered clubs where traditional ideas of masculinity and femininity are reaffirmed."
In other words, when we gather with people who look and believe as we do, we're more likely to behave the way we think we should as members of that group. We act out the stereotype.
Usually, that's not particularly sinister; it's the stuff of bad jokes, chick flicks and beer commercials. But there is a societal cost when people form isolated, like-minded communities: "Aspects of their identity become invisible to them," writes DeSantis. Which means that if, say, wealthy white males join a country club and spend their afternoons together in the men's bar, they might only rarely consider what it's like to be anything other than wealthy, white and male.
On Sunday, June 8, General Sessions Judge Casey Moreland apparently forgot what it was like to be anything other than a man. It's hard to imagine what he was thinking when he waived the 12-hour "cooling-off period" for David Chase, who allegedly assaulted his girlfriend a few hours earlier. The law was intended to give domestic violence victims time to gather their things and go somewhere safe.
Lauren Aletia Bull didn't get that chance. Instead, Chase returned to the apartment later that morning and assaulted her again, according to court records. (Even more amazingly, Commissioner Thomas Nelson waived the cooling-off period again when Chase was re-arrested for felony assault.)
What did defense attorney Bryan Lewis tell Judge Moreland when he called on Sunday morning to ask for his client's early release? Was there a metaphorical wink-and-a-nudge involved, just one Old Boy to another? Metro Police Chief Steve Anderson seems to think so. In a quietly outraged memo (quoted in Pith on June 17), he recalls a conversation with Moreland that seemed to point to a certain frat–house mentality: "I certainly resent Judge Moreland's implication ... that this is just good ole boys doing what good ole boys do and that I should understand. For the record, I don't understand."
Moreland and Nelson may or may not have joined any actual men's clubs. But they're arguably members of the biggest one of all: The Old Boy Network, that giant squid of power with tentacles in Washington and Wall Street, Augusta National and the Belle Meade Country Club, boardrooms, courtrooms, and statehouses nationwide. In the Halls of Power, the world is mostly a "gendered club."
What's scary about Old Boys is that too often, they act in a manner that's more guylike than manly. In this recent assault case, both judges utterly failed to protect the weaker party. Is it because they, as powerful males, identified more with the wealthy and well-connected defendant than they did with the female alleged victim?
It's impossible to say for sure, but a recent University of Rochester study suggests that personal experience may influence how judges consider cases. Judges who have daughters, the study found, are more likely to rule in favor of women's rights. Political scientist Maya Sen, who authored the study, told The New York Times, "Having daughters can actually fundamentally change how people view the world, and this, in turn, affects how they decide cases.
"By having at least one daughter," she said, "judges learn about what it's like to be a woman ... who might have to deal with issues like equity in terms of pay, university admissions or taking care of children." Or domestic violence.
Of course, fathering girls doesn't magically confer any special empathy toward women; nor does being a powerful white male necessarily cause blindness to inequities of gender, race, or economics. After all, the hero in this story is also a white male in a position of influence: Chief Anderson.
Whereas the judges in this tale, by cravenly closing ranks and protecting the Network, have hammed up the role of "guy" to the point of tragicomedy, Anderson has shown himself to be the only real man in the room.
I don't know whether he has a beard, or any daughters. But Anderson has chosen to stand up for domestic violence victims instead of defending his own privileged status in society — possibly, to his own detriment.
He may have to pay a social penalty for failing to play his role as "one of the guys." Real courage is taking a stand when it costs you something. In my book, that makes Anderson as manly as they come.
Email arts@nashvillescene.com.
